


Prayer and Shrine

by Alexander_Slamilton



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 21:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20378539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexander_Slamilton/pseuds/Alexander_Slamilton
Summary: “Dean, I know, me too.”I wrote this on my phone.





	Prayer and Shrine

The first thing Dean thinks is something along the lines of “oh shit he’s hot.” Then his brain catches up with him and he squashed that thought deep, deep down in to the centre of his mind. This was not the right time to be thinking those kind of things when some unknown entity was looking at him in the kind of way a lion would look at a lamb. Or a werewolf would look at a human or whatever. 

But the thing standing in front of him getting all up in his face was looking at him with baby blue eyes and sticky up sex hair and Dean couldn’t deny he was flustered. Somewhat. He stepped back a little, given that the thing (now Dean knew it’s name he wasn’t anymore inclined to call it by it, a monster was a monster). 

“I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.” That voice. Dean wanted to sink into it like a hot bath, in different circumstances that voice could do so many things to him. 

He took a look at Bobby, lying on the floor face down, but Dean knew the dude had come through from looking a lot worse than he did. He instead focused on the thing that was saying it dragged him out hell, which he didn’t think was true unless the universe hired tax accountants to drag people out of hell. 

Garbled words tumbled from his throat because seriously, who else would be coherent when they’d just been to hell and back (literally) (!). He didn’t really know exactly what he said but it must have made some kinda sense cause the thing looked at him. 

“I am an angel of the lord,” and holy hell were those wings, the thing had wings and was sparking off all the lamps in the shitehole barn they were in. And Dean could swear his knees were weak. 

***

If you’d told Dean back then that he’d fall head over heels for the angel he’d probably have believed you. But if you’d told him that he’d actually have the guts to tell the angel he was gaga over him then he’d have laughed at you. Because what were Winchester men if not experts in repression. 

But, here he was, zombies and all hell (again, literally!) heading towards them and for all he knew this was his last chance to do something about the feelings that had slowly been driving him insane for the last uh eleven years. 

Sam was in the middle of them but Dean could turn his head and see Cas. He looked like he always did when they were about to die. His face was all squinty and his angel blade was in his hand and Dean couldn’t stop himself from looking. Shit. This was not the time but honestly he couldn’t help himself. 

Tossing the bit of railing into his other hand he manoeuvred himself around so that he could tug on Cas’s sleeve. Blue eyes met his and suddenly the words froze in his throat. All the years, every soft look, every fight, every hunt, and every sleepless night rushed at him with a finality that made his brain spark out. 

There was pain in the memories but also an overwhelming, unconditional love. Cas was it for him. Cas was home. Those eyes held comfort and the kind of love that sits and waits with a porch light on in a stormy night. And this might be his last chance. They might both die. Or worse. 

“Cas- I-“ he choked, the words were there, on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t convey how he felt with them. There were no words to tell a person that you’d die and live for them, that they are almost as the air you breathe, that they are home and warmth and an adrenaline rush all at once. At least Dean couldn’t find those words when at least a hundred zombies were fewer than twenty meters from them. 

“Dean, I know,” there it was. Softly spoken a simple acknowledgement. How it was always going to be, “me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> The finale killed me.


End file.
